One Night in Hell
by NightWhisper25
Summary: Chapter 9: Homecoming from Claire's point of view. Please R&R Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING


A/N: _This is my first Heroes fanfic. I love the show, and I just really wanted to write one. This is a oneshot I did on Chapter 9: Homecoming; I did this one for several reasons. First of all this is where the whole "save the cheerleader, save the world" mantra comes in. It all comes to a head here. Second, Peter and Claire first meet. (Go Paire! gotta love it; I'm sooooooo upset at the writers!) Third, we catch our first glimpse of the evil Sylar is capable of. And last but not least, the Chapter is just full of raw emotion --I just wanted to capture it. Please R&R and Enjoy!_

My mind was a hurricane as I rushed down the deserted hallways, heading for the locker room. On the outside, I was a calm and collected cheerleader who had just been voted homecoming queen despite incredible odds. On the outside, I was pretty and popular. On the outside, I was your average teenager.

On the inside, I was a train wreck.

I felt like screaming --or crying I wasn't sure which. Needless to say I felt like a freak, like there was no one I could talk to outright. Not even Zach, who had been a complete Godsend through this whole thing, could understand what it was like for me to live like this. He probably would never know. Even if I tried to explain, if I tried to make him see through my eyes, would he even get it? I doubted it. This wasn't something you could explain away. You had to live it to understand. And as far as I knew, I was the only one living it. So far, I was alone.

I rounded the corner, checking my wristwatch at the same time; halftime in ten. I could make it to that if nothing else. I dropped my hand and raised my eyes, just in time to run into the solid wall of someone's body. My gym bag dropped from my shoulder and slid a foot away, and I nearly stumbled flat on my face, but two rigid arms reached out and caught me before I hit to floor. Bewildered, I looked up to meet the dark eyes of someone who likened more to an angel than a man.

"Sorry," I struggled as he whispered the same. He bent down and handed me my gym bag. "That was my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going." I took the bag and spun quickly, completely embarrassed. I could actually feel the traitor blush creeping up in my cheeks.

"Hey," his voice was rough and husky. It made me think of a pitch black night. I turned back around "You know this girl? Jackie Wilcox?" he asked, motioning to the trophy case that was filled with awards and newspaper clippings denoting Jackie the town hero. I wondered vaguely why he would care.

"Uh, yeah," I replied. "Halftime show starts in about five minutes, she'll be out in the field. She's a cheerleader." He straightened slightly at the last thing I said, like it had captured his interest. He looked at me in almost disbelief, before he shot me a crooked half smile that was strangely endearing, and turned back to the trophy case.

"Are you a reporter or something?" I asked even though he certainly didn't look like one, but then why else would he be interested.

"Alumni," he said quickly. "I'm just curious."

I nodded slowly and began to walk away, ready to just let it go. As long as I'd known Jackie she'd been the one who craved the fifteen minutes of fame, and for once I was glad she stole the spotlight from me. No one needed to know about what I was trying so hard to hide. But it was the strangest thing that came over me. I wasn't sure if I was beginning to be jealous, or if it was just the way Jackie had been treating me lately, but for some reason I didn't want this person to think that Jackie was all she was cracked up to be. It was like I felt she had no business being idolized by this complete stranger.

Weird, I know.

"You know," I started. "Between you and me, she's not that special. She's just your average teenage girl."

"She rushed into a fire, saved a man's life." He replied. "Sounds pretty special to me."

I took that in for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, you're right." I said, beginning to feel sorry that I had even said anything. "I'm jealous." I gave in. "She's our town hero;" I let my eyes slide back over to her smiling picture. "Me, I don't win that many popularity contests." I stepped away, and started back towards the locker room, but this time it was him who stopped me.

"Hey, it gets better," he called from behind. I turned around.

"What?"

"Life after high school." he said. "It gets alot better."

For a brief second I wondered why he was telling me this. How he could be so sure of it. It wasn't my life he was living, so how could he know? I didn't need encouragement; I was sure of that. I needed insurance, I certainly wasn't going to find that here, from some stranger. But, when I thought about it, it was nice to hear it all the same. I smiled to myself as I considered his words. Then walked away.

I got changed in a hurry, everyone had stared when I walked in and a few of the other girls had been whispering behind hands. As if me not being able to actually see their lips moving would make me think they weren't talking about me. . . I didn't feel like hanging around --not when I knew that so many people here despised me.

I was sitting down on the long bench, tying my shoes and refusing to meet any of their eyes when she walked in. "Halftime, girls! C'mon pump it up!" she yelled. A chorus of whoops and hollars erupted. I, instead rolled my eyes.

"Will the nervyness never cease?" she demanded when she found me, reclusive from the rest of them. The other cheerleaders had gathered around her to watch --a silent jury to an injust ruling. "I thought you were grounded."

I glanced up at her and tied a firm knot in my shoelace. "It didn't take." I said. "How's your eye?" Inwardly I smiled at this afternoon's memory and how good it felt to actually stand up to her for once instead of back down.

She looked incredibly ticked. "Nothing I can't cover up." she growled through clenched teeth. I watched her from behind as she steamed, opening up her compact mirror to spread a little more powder on the sore spots. To cover up the black and blue stains embedded in her skin.

_Trying to hide her true colors_. I thought.

"There's something I want to say to you. Co-captain to co-captain." she said as the other girls cleared out of the locker room, leaving us alone.

I rose to my feet. "Say it."

Jackie certainly didn't waste any time. She spun around and looked me straight in the eye. "I think your a menace," she said. I felt the words like poison-tipped daggers hit me. It was true what they said --you never know someone. "And I'm not just talking about you punching me over your boyfriend the girlfriend. I'm talking about you in general." Jackie's verbal fountain of hate stopped spewing words for a moment. "We used to be bff's." she said. "What happened?"

"Maybe I've gained some perspective." I said. "I'm tired of trying to be someone I'm not."

She nearly laughed. "You'v been trying to be me since second grade." she challenged.

"And now you're trying to be me." It wasn't just an accusation. It was the plain truth, but knowing Jackie as well as I did she wouldn't believe it. She would just stuff it away like a dirty sock in the bottom of the clothes-pile; completely in denile of what she was.

"How do you figure?" she laughed.

The answer scorched the tip of my tongue, abraisive against my throat. "Your little heroic act --pulling the guy out of the burning train car. It wasn't your heroic act, it was mine."

There was a small, stubborn disbelief in her voice. "No it wasn't." And fear behind all that.

I smirked to myself. "I have it on tape." The confession I had been fighting so hard to conceal, the whole reason I hadn't stepped up when that fire marshall came to practice didn't seem as important as just shoveling all of this back in Jackie's face. Who cared if I was a freak if it allowed me this one victory?

She gave me one more defiant look before turning away. It was with her back to me that I decided to take all of this a step further.

"You know, a good friend of mine once said it's more important to be honest with yourself and happy than popular." She knew I was talking about Zach. She knew he was right, too by the way she turned her eyes toward the ceiling. "I think he got it right."

Jackie slammed her locker before squaring on me. "Really?" her teeth clenched, and I could see fury written all over her face. "Sounds like a loser to me." she spat.

There was a loud noise, metal on metal --like a switch being pulled-- before the lights went out. I spun around, somehow automatically feeling that something wasn't right here.

"Ugh, public schools suck." Jackie said from behind me. Then a distinct sound, something moving in the silence.

I felt my pulse quicken under my skin. "Did you hear that?" I asked Jackie; she only rolled her eyes.

"Hear what?" she said, thoroughly ticked as she began to move out of the locker room.

I glanced around as I followed her. "That sound," I began. "Jackie, someone's in here."

She kept moving quickly through the maze of lockers.

"Hello?" I said, the sound of my voice against the walls of the hollow room sent chills down my spine.

"Stop it, you're freaking me out." Jackie said, glancing over her shoulder at me, venom in her eyes.

My eyes kept glancing in every direction. "I thought I heard something."

"You're imagining it." she said heatedly. "Let's go." She headed straight for the exit, but something was there. I _knew_ something was there.

"Whoa, whoa. . . " I grabbed her by the arm and stepped out in front of her, staring at the door. I wasn't sure what I expected. . . but something was terribly wrong.

Jackie fought out of my grip and pushed back ahead of me. "What is your _problem!_?" she demanded. I grabbed her wrist again.

"Don't go that way." I whispered, pulling her back the way we came.

"What the _heck!" _she stumbled.

"Something's not right." I said, leading her down a different row of lockers.

She wrenched her hand free from me. "No duh," she said. "We're missing coronation." I scanned the area, hoping to God that she wasn't planning on fighting with me right now. How could she not feel that something here just was not right? "And believe me," she continued. I had stopped listening. "If you don't wanna go out there and get that homecoming crown, I'm more than --" Her ranting had cut off. A muffled scream took its place.

You haven't felt fear until your trapped in a dark room with seemingly no place left to flee. You don't know terror unless you hear the frightened whimpers of the girl who used to be your best friend coming from behind the row of lockers she has just been pulled behind, knowing already that it's too late for her.

I spun around, cold adrenaline swimming through my veins. Everything began moving faster and faster as my pulse quickened under my skin. It was a dizzying effect. Jackie's terrified squeals were the only thing I could hear above her feet pounding against the lockers --or maybe it was above the pounding of my own heart.

A man darkly dressed had Jackie by the neck, holding her above his head. "NO!" I screamed. I didn't think. I couldn't afford to. I only acted, jumping onto the guy and digging my fingers into his face. Praying desperately that he would let go.

Suddenly I went flying, backwards --he had hardly laid a hand on me, but still he had somehow thrown me across the room. My body hit the wall face first; I felt every bone shatter on the right side of my face. Indescribable pain shooting from every nerve. My bones had started regrowing before I even hit the floor. I could have blacked out from the force of impact, but Jackie's scream brought me back.

I lifted my eyes and saw through the strands of my matted hair the man cover Jackie's mouth with one hand, still managing to keep her suspended above ground. He raised his other hand, index finger stretched out like he was pointing, and traced an invisible line parallel to her forhead.

I watched in horror while blood spilled from the open wound that had appeared from nowhere. Jackie's screams were audible even while his hand was still clamped firmly over her lips. I was incredibly surprised when I found myself standing, feeling tiny pinches crawl all along the side of my face as my skin stitched itself up. Jackie's head wound poured blood like a fountain.

I couldn't move. It felt like everything inside of me had gone completely and utterly numb, and I knew I had no choice but to watch my friend die.

Jackie's eyes met mine, fear tied us together like a cord --a magnetic field. I knew her face would haunt me for the rest of my life. Her voice would echo in my head every time I tried to forget. . .

"_RUN!''_

The man turned to me, his eyes peering out from under the bill of the cap he wore. I could sware that I saw every nightmare I had ever dreamt in those vacant holes. . . it was like seeing the face of the devil.

He dropped Jackie immediately. Her body hit the ground with a thud. Needless to say I didn't stick around.

I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I ran. They stung, like drops of acid were leaking from my soul. Every breath I took was a ragged one as Jackie's last word continued to echo in the back of my head.

_Run. . . _

I had been doing just that when I ran headlong into the angel.

Again he caught me. "Are you okay?"

I couldn't answer, my voice had been stolen by the theif whose shadow was now creeping along the wall behind the stranger. The demon emerged from behind.

"RUN! GO!'' he yelled. But he didn't have to. I was already gone.

I belted into the courtyard, my lungs burning and my legs shaking under me. In my peripheral vision I could see him coming up behind me --a shadow ready to constrict and squeeze the life out of me.

The huge staircase stretched out in front of me and I jumped on it, screams escaping me as the shadow came closer. I had every intention of running until my heart exploded when I tripped and stumbled on the third step. I fell, catching myself on my palms and rolling off them into a sitting positon. The shadow that had been following me turned out to be that of the stranger in the hallway. Without missing a beat he grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet and dragged me up the next few stairs.

He spun back around, turning me with him. The silhouette of the demon became visible in the courtyard entrance, his shadow menacing against the bright background. But he didn't move. He only stood there, like he was expecting something.

I turned to the stranger, we were both panting heavily and it took my brain a minute to form a coherent sentence. "What is it?" My voice came out in barely a whisper. So did his when he spoke.

His eyes were intense when he turned them to me. Incredibly focused and surprisingly calm. "Go to the stadium, okay? Find people, find lights." he broke eye contact with me to look at the man. "He doesn't want to be seen."

I kept staring at him. "Wh--what about you?" I asked, panicking. I didn't know what more this man was capable of, but I had seen enough people die tonight.

The stranger's voice was nearly furious when he spoke. His eyes burned into mine. "Don't worry about me, just go!" But I just stood there, motionless. "GO!" he screamed. Finally I broke my stare and went, pumping my legs harder and harder, obeying his command.

It nearly broke my heart when I heard the crash of the two bodies when they fell five stories to the ground below.

It seemed like it took forever to get to the entrance below. Each step I took after all the running felt sluggish and useless --like I was going nowhere. When I finally pushed through the door to the other side I knew it was too late.

It was terrible. . . His hips had been dislocated, and twisted perpendicular to his stomach, his legs flailing out in every direction. He was drenched in his own blood --lying in a pool of it.

"No. . . " Unconsciously I moved forward, not knowing what to do really. Obviously he was dead; no one could survive that kind of fall. I couldn't believe how much it scared me to think this stranger --my potential savior-- might be dead.

And then he started coughing.

I jumped at the sound --never expecting to hear it from a dead man-- but also I was extremely relieved, and somewhere in the back of my mind it hit me.

_You're like me. . . _

I knelt down closer while he fixed himself, not really sure if I was believing what I saw. Halfway developed questions slipped from my brain, losing meaning on the way to my mouth.

The stranger looked around himself. "Where is he?" he asked.

I was still in complete shock. It took me a moment to realize who he was talking about. "I dunno, he ran away before I got here."

He looked around. "Police," he muttered before meeting my eyes. "Go get some help, okay?" He was extremely calm --eerily so.

"Okay," I panted. "I'll be back."

I was halfway down the walk when I turned around. It felt wrong, going through all of this and not knowing even the simplest thing: his name.

"Hey," I said. "What's your name?"

"Peter." he said evenly. I nodded.

"I'm Claire."

Peter's eyes traced my face. "Are you the one?" he asked. "By saving you did I save the world?"

I didn't understand what he was saying. . . "I dunno. . ." I replied. "I'm just a cheerleader."

Help. I needed to find help. It was the least I could do for this Peter. People were leaving the stadium already. The game was over --ironic. I was just about to give up. I was so tired, my legs were quaking under me, unable to hold my own weight, forbidden tears were begging for an exit, and then I heard his voice.

"Claire!" Too good to be true, I turned around and saw him standing there. I started walking toward him, and he met me halfway. My dad pulled me into a protective hug and for the first time tonight I felt safe. I let the tears fall silently onto the sleeve of his suit jacket. "You're okay," he whispered. "It's okay."

"Dad, it was terrible. . ." I clutched fistfulls of my father's shirt. He loosened his grip to look at my face. "Dad, we have to go back." I said. Peter's name tugged at the back of my mind. I clutched his forearms for support, I felt like I could pass out any second. "Peter, he saved my life. We have to go back!" He tried to talk over me to tell me everything would be fine. I wasn't listening. "No, Dad. Peter. He was dead. . ." I wasn't making sense. "But then he. . . We _have_ to go back!"

My father was firm. "The police will take care of everything." he said, stroking my hair. "You're lucky to be alive, Claire." he whispered. I shook my head. I was tired of lying. . .tired of hiding things from my father. Maybe he --if no one else-- could help.

"It's not luck, Dad." I said, tears brimming over in my voice. I could see my father's eyes searching mine for an explaination. "There's something I have to tell you."

_Well, let me know what you all think!_


End file.
